and she feels like the luckiest girl in the world
by BlueBunny80
Summary: My best friend said I went to far with this one. Me thinks I went just far enough. Can you take it? Can Draco? You decide. **Warning: EXPLICIT ANAL THINGS DONE EXPLICITLY! p.s. I spelled his name wrong on purpose, only way I could stomach it.
1. Chapter 1

There's someone in my room. I'm not sure what noise woke me, but now that I'm awake I know someone or something is on the other side of my curtains. Crab and Goyle are downstairs sleeping in the common room. Maybe kicking them out so I could be alone wasn't such a good idea.

"Who's there?"

Crawling across my bed, I throw open my curtains. Shit there's no one there. Or should I say I can't _see_ who's there.

"Potter?"

He snatches the cloak off and hits me in the face so hard I see stars. My mouth fills with blood. The inside of my cheek a shredded mess.

"What did you call me?"

"Voldermort"

"I said …Voldermort"

He regards me. He regards the situation. Should he punish me for my mistake now or later? I jam my tongue into the inside of my cheek while he stares at me. Standing there, his head cocked to the side, jeez, my worst fear dressed in the body of my worst enemy.

Ohhh! If only Potter knew what Voldermort did with his body at night. To see his face when the memories finally surface. I hope he's balls deep in that Weasley girl, when he gets a flashback of the night I spent 40 minutes trying to fish my wand out of his ass.

My god I can't list all the things I've put into him. Hell, _lost_ in him. I must have smiled because the asshole hits the other side of my face. Fuck that stings. He rears back to hit me again. I dodge him, and make a mad dash for the head of my bed. I don't get far though. He's on me in flash. I slide on the covers and end up on my stomach splayed like a frog. He sits on my back, crushing my body into the bed. I can't breathe at all. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back hard enough to lift my chest off the bed. He pulls and pulls and there's a moment that it's too much. That my back just might break. He holds me there. Right on the edge of too far.

I feel something cold on my ass and realize he's spit on my crack. I try to relax for what's to come next but he gives me no time. He just jams his thumb in my asshole. Searing pain and pressure are all that I am. My cock jumps under me, crushed between my stomach and the bed. His thumb is only in maybe an inch but it feels like a fucking tree limb. A jagged tree limb. No, drift wood. A jagged piece of drift wood is slowly, forcefully being worked into my ass. God it feels good.

" Aaauuuhhhh!"

" Deeper!"

I'm going to come!

Damn! I must have given myself away, because before I can let go, he takes his hand away and lets go of my hair. OW! It hurts so much to be laying flat after being curled back like that, that I can't move or think for some time. I just lie there unable to move.

"Get up."

"I want you over the footboard."

"Not the headboard?"

I like it over the headboard. When he really goes at me, my head slams into the wall behind it. Or he'll take my face and smash it into the mirror above the headboard. Good times.

"No. I want you facing the doorway in case Crab and Goyle come in. I might just offer them your ass. What do you think they'd do to you if I did?"

Just thinking of what those two gorillas would do to me, if I was ever at their mercy, have me racing to fling myself over the wooden footboard at the end of my bed.

It's cold and hard. Hits me right below the ribs. I grab the bed posts and lean forward. This position is extremely uncomfortable. My arms are fully extended. The wood's cutting into my stomach. My knees are sinking into the space where the bed meets the footboard. Voldermort/Harry crawls back onto the bed. His weight causes me to shift into the wood digging into my stomach. It's starting to hurt. If this is just from him crawling toward me, this is going to get "_real",_ real quick.

I feel him at my back. But he comes no closer. When he makes no attempt to come closer I start to get pissed, but then I hear the bottle of my lube pop open. Yes it's a sound I recognized. And the fact that this is the first time he's ever used lube demands acknowledgement. He tosses the bottle across the room. Shit I have to remember to find that bottle later. I feel his index finger at the entrance of my business end. He gently inserts it, then slams it in to the last knuckle. Bastard. Then he works in a second finger. Then a third. At the fourth I have to really concentrate on my breathing. Exhale…inhale…relax. After a moment to adjust, he starts working his fingers in and out of me. The stretching pain starts to feels really good. I'm suddenly aware that I'm grunting, and have been all along. I'm so close.

"What do you want?"

"I want Harry's huge dick in my ass!"

I flinch, waiting for the hit. But it doesn't come.

"No. That's not what you want. What do you want."

"I…I…want …I want your fist? I want your fucking fist! I want your whole hand right up my ass! Now!"

He adds his thumb to the fingers in my ass and I think, maybe I've made a mistake. Maybe I can't take it. I start to pull away and he grabs my hair again. Pulling my head back, and back. Fuck that hurts.

"you can take it."

"Aaauugghh!"

"You can take it."

He moves his hand further in. He's working past the huge knuckle on his thumb and I'm braking on a molecular level. I imagine my asshole. It's completely smooth now. Pulled open. Pink and shiny. It's at its limit. It's gonna tear. God help me it feels so good being literally torn asunder by this monster. And then his hand just sort of pops in. He's in me to the wrist now. My asshole can't cope. It's seizing around his wrist, just twitching away. My prostate is sitting on top his fucking fist like a prom queen in a float car at homecoming and she feels like the luckiest girl in the world. My dick is so hard that even bent over this bed like this it's touching the wood. It's face is pressed into the footboard, it's little lips giving it a kiss. I'm gripping the posts so tightly my arms are shaking like mad. It's like every nerve ending I have is on fire. The pleasure is so intense it's pain. It feels too good. Fuck! I can feel his pulse through his wrist in my ass.

"Too much!"

"Oh god…it's too much…I…I..too much…"

I'm past words. Past everything . Just when I think I going to die, I am going to die right here on Harry's arm, this son-of-a-bitch grabs my dick and starts squeezing. To say I screamed would be a lie. It's more like I screamed in reverse. I actually sucked sound out to the room. Then! THEN! The god-damn-son-of-a-bitch starts pumping his arm in and out of my ass. I'm keening . I'm shaking. I'm dying. I'm flying. He's bent over me. Jackhammering his fist in my ass, cranking my dick for all it's worth. My mind blanks clean. The world disappears. All I have is sound. The wet sick meaty sounds of totally depravity. I have left my mind. I am nothing but a hole and a dick. I am way out on the corner of fucked up and evil and I can't ever go back. And then I'm coming! I AM COMING!My soul is coming out the head of my dick. My organs. My life. I come everything I am. I come so much, so hard that somehow, I come all over my own face. I manage a short hysterical giggle before I completely collapse forward. I can't move. Couldn't if my life depended on it. My ass is still wide open. Gaping like a mouth. Its shock at what just happened, as great as mine. I'm pondering if my ass will ever close again.

Voldermort is halfway across the room when he says softly, "congratulations, I've chosen you to be the one to kill Dumbledore ".

I'm crying by the time the door closes behind him.


	2. Chapter 2: Have I gone too far now

**The Journal**

My father told me not to touch the journal under any circumstance. He locked it away in his study. Something about a magic that could destroy Harry Potter. An evil trapped in the journal with immense power. So of course, I stole the damn thing as soon as it was under the same roof as me. I've had it in my room for days. I can't figure out what it does. After trying everything I can think of to activate the bloody thing, I'm done. It's obviously a bust. Yet, another failure in a string of failures. Another waste of my family's money. My money. Every time my father comes up with another scheme to kill Potter my inheritance is decreased. My father's ambition will be the death of my future.

I'm sitting at my desk. I can't sleep. Haven't' slept in ages. I'm flipping through the blank pages of the journal. It's blank, blank, blank, just page after page of nothing. I've tried every incantation I can find but if there are secrets hidden in this journal, I don't know how to unlock it. I grab a pen and start doodling in the thing. I start filling the pages with odd shapes and stick figures. Then it hits me, how funny would it be if I filled the journal with drawings of dicks. Yeah, just fill all the pages with cocks and balls. The look on my father's face when he's realizes he's failed again, will be worth all the useless hours spent on this book.

I get bored after a few pages, though. This is lame. Need to step it up a notch. How about a little smut. Something to really fuck with my father. I sit for a while until a good story comes to me. I poise the pen over the yellowed parchment and let the filth flow.

_Voldermort has Lucius bent over the long table in the "Great Hall"…His hand on the back of his neck, preventing him from standing. Lucius slings his body about the table, trying to avoid the blows landing on his pale, tight, round, ass. "I want yo' ass red and hot fo' I split it open with my big cock"_

_**I would NEVER say that.**_

I drop the pen and jump out my chair so fast it topples over, sliding several feet away. I stare at the page, at the words, the words I didn't write, as they slowly fade away. It must really be late if I'm imagining things. I reach for the journal to close it, when more words appear.

_**I said… I would never say that. **_

_**How about this? Tom Riddle appears in young Draco's bedroom. Standing right behind him, he begins to disrobe. His clothing falling to the floor on top of Draco's scattered books. He palms his erection, waiting for the frightened boy to turn around.**_

_…_**_But alas, the boy is too frightened. Is he a coward like his pathetic father? Will he continue to stand at his desk staring at that stupid journal , pretending that he doesn't feel my presence in his room? Will he pretend he doesn't feel my breath on his neck? What will the little wizard do?_**

I can feel him at my back. I know that if I just look up I'll see him in the reflection of my window. If I turn around, I'll be face to face with him. With Voldermort. With Tom Riddle. Why is he going by his old name? How did he come to be in my room. Why is he pressing his dick into the crack of my ass?

"Are you going to turn around, boy?" He says into my ear, so close it tickles. I turn around expecting my worst nightmare. But, instead, I'm confronted with a teenager. He's older than me, at least nineteen to my sixteen. But, still not an adult. I don't understand why he's young, and in my bedroom, and jacking himself off. "W-what do you want?" I stammer. I back up a step and bump into my desk. He advances immediately. We're belly to belly. His warm naked body pressed to my shaking one. "W-w-w-what do I w-want?" he says, mocking my stutter.

"You wrote in the book, your perversions released me. You required no corruption on my part. What I want is what you want." "What I want…is you."

I stare at him dumbfounded. It must be a trick. Some way for Tom Riddle to humiliate me. Trying to exploit my true desires. I shove at his chest as hard as I can and run for the door. I only make it about three steps before I'm body slammed into the door. He's knocked the wind out of me. I push off from the door only to be slammed back with even more force. His hand, wrapped around my neck, holds me in place. I struggle against his grip as he pulls my pajama bottoms down past my ass. I struggle like a man possessed as he pulls them past my thighs. I wretch my body this way and that, against the door and him, fighting to get free of his clutches as he uses his foot to lower my pants to my ankles.

"Malfoy?"

My whole body locks up when I hear my mother voice. It's coming from downstairs. She must have heard the commotion.

"Malfoy, are you alright?", her distant voice asks.

"Yes, Malfoy, are you alright? What have you gotten yourself into? Why don't you call your mother up stairs, we'll make it a party", Tom hisses at the side of my face.

"I'm fine mother. Just couldn't sleep", I shout back.

Tom starts kneading my ass with the hand that's not crushing me to the door.

"Look, let's just move to the bed OK, I'll give you whatever you want. Just…on the bed OK", I plead.

But, I realize I'm pleading to death ears as I watch Tom reach up and scoop oil out of the wall sconce by my doorway. I want to struggle as I feel him work the oil in-between my cheeks, but I know there's no point. He outweighs me. I can't get free. All I'll succeed in doing is making noise that will draw my mother up the stairs.

I'm pressed up against my bedroom door. The left side of my face pressed into the cold hard wood. My palms brace myself, but it does no good, I can't move an inch. Tom Riddle is no longer grabbing me by my throat. Only his body pressed to mine holds me in place. But it's enough, he's so much stronger than me, that it's enough. Both his hands knead and pry at my ass. They're covered in oil. My face is flush, my heart is trying to beat out my chest. Tom's quickened breath on my neck causes goose bumps to erupt along my back and arms. My body tenses as his thumb begins to works its way into my asshole. This is it. I've never done anything like this before. Dreamed of it hundreds of times. But, I've never acted on my desires.

His thumb moves deeper and deeper. There's no way to know how deep it is, but it feels deep. And it feels huge. There's a bolt of pain that causes me to shout out, and then his thumb is inside me. Past my outer ring, plunged deep into my rectal depths. It's not that bad. Tom reaches up and scoops more oil out of the wall sconce. It's ice cold when he applies it directly into my asshole around his thumb. Then he adds his other thumb. I can feel them slowly piston inside me. I'm panting. The need to grunt and shout and scream is like lightning running through my nerves. The feel of his thumbs see-sawing inside me is indescribable. Just when I get accustomed to his hands, he pulls them away. The feel of my third eye slowly returning to its original shape is just…fuckin weird. Tom kicks my feet apart. He grabs my neck with both hands and squeezes for just a fraction of a second. Then he moves to my shoulders. He massages them briefly before dragging his nails down my back and ass. He goes to mid-thigh and then back up again, stopping at my rear. My skin burns where he's scored me. He pries my cheeks apart again and this time I feel his bell end knocking on my back door. It feels like a log and instantly I've changed my mind. I clench my ass cheeks closed as tightly as I can. I clamp down on my anus so hard I see stars. There is no way he's getting in. NO way!

I feel Tom curve his body back around mine moments before he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes again. Only this time he doesn't let up. I claw at his hands as I struggle for air. My vision tunnels down to black. I feel myself slipping away. My knees are just starting to buckle when Tom let's go of my neck. I pull in one long painful breath as he slams his erection balls deep into my slackened hole. I scream all my newly acquired oxygen away. I lean my forehead against the cold door, my whole body shaking uncontrollably as my mind and asshole tried to cope with the trauma. My anal ring is seizing around Tom's blessedly immobile cock. It feels like I've had a rusty hot poker driven up my ass. I'm speechless as I stand propped up against the door skewered on his dick.

"Malfoy?" my mother shouts from downstairs.

Holy shit! My mother. She must have heard me scream. She sounds so close. She must be at the foot of the stairs. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

"I'm OK. I-I-I fell!" I manage to say around the dick in my ass.

"Are you sure?" she shouts, just a bit closer. I can picture her in my mind a few stairs up from the bottom.

I'm rendered silent as Tom pulls free from my body with a drag and a pop. Of course my sweet, sweet, relief is short lived as he slams back in to the hilt. Fuck! I bite my lip so hard I draw blood. But, at least I don't make any noise. Oh My God!

Tom pulls out and slams into me again, and again. His nails dig into my hips as the room fills with the wet hammering sounds of our sodomy. I spread my legs to better take the brutal thrusting. And get rewarding by having my pelvic bones slammed into the door. He's so deep, so hard, so violent. His thrusts actually lift me full off the floor and into the door over and over again. At the end of every stroke he rubs over my prostate, causing me to squeal like Micheal Jackson in a McDonalds play gym.

The sound of my pictures crashing to the floor brings reality home. We have to be quiet. I bite my lip and force myself to be silent. I push my ass out as hard as I can making it impossible for him to slam my hips into the wall. Unfortunately, when I do, I'm treated to the sound of my mother's heels click clacking up the stairs.

"Please, please, please, oh god, please be quiet. My mother is coming." I whisper.

This spurs Tom to drill me like a mad man. My breath is literally knocked out of me with every pump. He fucks me like a man insane. Growling and grunting. Pounding me so hard he's pulling me inside out on every pull. It's like dying. Like I'm dying and finally living, all at once.

"Malfoy!" My mother shouts from the other side of the door,

I can feel the blood literally drain out of my head. Quickly as I can, I cast a spell to lock the door. My mother is on the other side of the door that I'm being fucked against. Oh my god! Is there any way she doesn't know what's happening?

"You have the sweetest little virgin ass I've ever had the pleasure of destroying!" Tom whispers. Then he proceeds to drill me so hard I can do nothing but brace myself for the onslaught.

"Ohhhhh! Take it! Take it! Take all of me!"

"You dirty little whore!"

"You fucking little shit, let me hear you scream! Scream my name bitch! Let mommy know who's fucking the shit out of you!"

"Fuuuuuuck! You're so good!"

"Who's fucking you bitch!?"

"Who's fucking you!"

"Come on Malfoy, who's ass it this!?"

I SAID WHO'S FUCKING YOU?!"

"…YOOOOOOU ARRRRRE!"

" Tom Riddle is fucking the SHIT out of me!"

I scream it at the top of my lungs. My mother is inches away and I don't give a fuck. This feels too good. His dick is so deep I feel it in my throat. I feel it in my soul. This is what it means to be owned. To be taken. To be fucked senseless.

"It's yours Tom, it's all yours! Oh god, split me in two! Brake me! Own me! Oooooh Shiiiiit!"

Suddenly his hand is on my cock. He's squeezing and pulling and twisting it. It excruciating! It's amazing. He's trying to tear it off and it feels so good, he can have it, he can totally have my dick. Oh god!

"Malfoy!" my mother shouts as she pounds the door with her fist.

"Malfoy!" You open this door right now!" Who is that?" "What are you doing young man?" Little bursts of light come in through the keyhole. She's trying to open the door. I am so beyond giving a shit.

Tom Riddle is tearing my ass up. He is literally a supernatural blur over my shoulder as he tries to fuck through me. My balls draw up, as my body prepares to blow it's load. My gut is showered with Tom's jizm as his sorcerer's stones go off deep in my bowels. He pulls out, only to go off again all over my back and ass. He's still coming as he pushes back in as far and as deep as he can. He's just breaching my asshole for the final time when I start to orgasm. I come and come and come. It's so intense I can't move or say a thing. My whole body is just locked in total ecstasy. I stare with unblinking eyes as I empty my goblet of fire. Six pearly ropes leave me deathly hollow. I am spent. Well and truly spent.

"I'll be seeing you again real soon, little wizard." And then he's just gone. My hole left grasping at nothing. My back left cold and sweaty. As quick as our encounter started, it ends. I rest my forehead on the cool wood of the door. My mother has walked away. For the moment, I'm all alone. Unfortunately, I'm pulled out of my inner reflections by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. It seems my father is home.

"You have FIVE minutes to get downstairs. I want you clean and presentable and in the study…someone very important is waiting."

"This is the opportunity we've all been waiting for, and you will not fuck it up." My father hisses through the door.

Hmmmm…it seems I'll be seeing Tom Riddle again real soon.


	3. Chapter 3: His Softer Side

I'm getting cold. I've been standing here for at least thirty minutes. I hate it when he brings me down here. Our basement has several rooms, all of them unpleasant. I'm aware of at least seven prisoners being held down here. There are always prisoners down here for some reason or another. Whatever. Truth be told I'm not fond of Malfoy Manor. Coming here for Easter holiday has been a total bore. I foolishly thought things were looking up when the Dark Lord, Tom, whatever, contacted me. He said things weren't going to plan and he needed a bit of fun. I assumed "a bit of fun" involved me and him in some swanky dark corner of the world and yours truly being turned out evil Dark Lord style. Instead, I find myself chained to the ceiling of my own damn dungeon. Bit of fun, my ass. I'm cold and naked. My arms and shoulders are burning from the strain of being chained well above my head for at least half an hour. And where the hell is Tom anyway? He said he'd be right back.

Finally, the door opens. My arms are killing me. Where the fuck has he been? It's Tom Riddle this time. I'd recognize him anywhere now, even in total darkness. He comes to stand right in front of me. I can't see him clearly but I feel his presence, his quiet energy. That's how I know which body he's coming to me in. Voldermort, is sick and his body runs hot, like he has a fever all the time. His skin is pale and clammy. His heartbeat is sporadic, beating out his chest one moment, barely beating the next. Voldermort is fidgety, the energy of a man that's been waiting for something big to happen for too long. But Tom, my Tom, is cool and collected. . Tom Riddle's body is healthy and young. Strong in its youth. Calm with a deadly calculating energy that I adore. Tom is everything I want to be. Tom is everything that I want.

All the torches in the room ignite at once. It's a stupid parlor trick, but I jump two inches off the floor none the less. When the star bursts in my vision subside I look around me and take in my surroundings. The chamber that I'm in is massive. Even with the torches lit, there are two walls so far way I can barely make them out. The ceiling is low, about as high as any other home ceiling. The floor is cold and marble and smooth. The room appears to be completely empty except for a long stone table about four feet to my left.

I turn my body as much as the chains will allow and check it out. On the table, there are two floggers. One small and short with short leather strips, and a leather handle. The other flogger is longer by a foot and has lots more leather strips. It has a long shiny metal handle as well. There are two small gilded chains with tiny little clamps on them and lube in a blue glass bottle.

I turn back around to Tom. He's dressed in his school clothes. He's loosened the tie and removed the robes but still manages to look completely in control. Like a Boss. He walks over to the table and back. He's holding the long flogger. He stops about three feet in front of me and silently stares at my chest. He's slowly running his fingers through the long throngs of the whip. He seems thoughtful, sad even. I don't like it. I don't like seeing his weaker emotions. I don't like that he won't look at me.

"Tom?" I say softly, suddenly out of my element.

"Tom?"

He looks up. Startled, like, he forgot I was there. He sighs.

"Do you love me?" ,he asks. He might as well have punched me in the stomach. I feel his question like a blow to the gut. How the fuck do I answer that? How the fuck do I know? Shit. Shit. I don't know. I'm not…I'm can't answer that. For so many reasons I can't answer that.

"Well…do you", he whispers.

"I…I…I…" I stammer. I have no words. It's a good thing I'm shackled to the ceiling because the ground has just fallen right from under me.

"I find myself distracted. I've had one goal, one focus, for the entirety that I've been imprisoned in that god dammed journal waiting for my future self to release me. One goal. And when your one goal is world domination focus is quite necessary. But lately, I find myself…distracted."

"It's you. You are all I can think about. Your ridiculous hair. Your pathetic need to please your father. Your inability to succeed in the simplest of tasks. And…your eyes. Your voice. Your smell. I think I've fallen in love with you."

"Did you hear me?!" he says angrily. "I, future Lord Voldermort himself, have fallen in love with you."

"I didn't even love my parents."

"…well…say something"

I stare at him silent. I am struck completely dumb. I don't know what to say. How to respond. I'm aware of my mouth hanging open, but can do nothing to stop it.

"Fine. I'll beat it out of you."

And with that, he did. I watched Tom run his fingers through the whip one last time before he brought his arm back in a long arch and brought it down with force. I expected blinding pain but the blow only stings my chest. Like tiny little rubber band snaps across my front. Not bad at all. Tom swings and hits me again and again. Sharp little stings across my ribs and belly. I feel my skin start to throb, the blood rushing to the surface. He brings the flogger down again and again and again. My skin feels hot. It's not pain, not exactly. But each time he raises his arm I flinch expecting this time to feel real pain. He hits me again and again. We never brake eye contact as he hits me and it's the closest I've ever felt to him. There's sweat on his brow. He steps back from me and it's like I suddenly can't breathe. Just a few feet of distance and I feel so alone. Three steps back and I feel pain. His removal is physical pain.

He snatches off his tie and shirt, buttons flying everywhere. He pulls of his belt, his pants shifting to sit low on his hips. He's breathing is labored. His hair on end. He looks like a god.

"Please…", I say. Not really knowing what I'm asking for. But he knows. He steps back in front of me. His chest just inches from mine. His heat to mine. And just like that I can breathe again. Just like that, I'm whole.

"Please", I say again. It comes out a whisper, but I was screaming it in my head. Please! Please! Please come back! Please don't leave me! Please hurt me! Please love me! Please! PLEASE!

He runs his nails across my chest. It's hyper sensitive now. It feels so good. I lean my head against my left arm and let my body just swing in my bondage. It's bliss to have him touch me. He drags both hands, nails first, down my chest. I arch into him seeking more.

"I'm going to kiss you. Just a little kiss", and then he does. He takes my face in his hand and pulls me in for a kiss. He's a bit taller than me, so I lean up into his chest as he kisses me softly on the lips. His lips are so soft and warm. I smile two seconds before he slaps me. Hard. My face snaping around to hit my other arm. I see stars. But when the stars clear he's smiling back. He has a lovely smile. It hits me then, that I must be a truly fucked up individual, but just as soon, the thought is gone.

"Do you want to kiss me Draco?"

"Yes. Yessssssss"

He hits me again.

"What would you do for a kiss, Draco. A real kiss. What would you do?" He walks around me to the table. Before I can voice my distress , he's back. He has the shorter whip in his hand. Just like that, I know this whip will cause pain. It's in the way he's caressing it. It's in the way he's looking at me. This flogger was made to hurt. And he wants to hurt me with it.

"I would do anything to kiss you Tom Riddle. Anything!" I say with absolute honesty.

"Would you suffer pain? Would you sacrifice that flawless white skin? Would you die for me?" Tom whispers.

"I would do anything, whatever it takes, just to kiss your lips my Dark Lord. I would die for you."

"Good. But not today Draco…not today"

And with that he brought the whip down. Where the other flogger felt like tiny little snaps this one feels like thuds. Like marbles are tied to the end of each strip of leather. And each marble wants under my skin. I manage not to cry out with the first blow, but by the second one I'm shouting. By the fifth one I'm screaming. By the tenth one I'm crying. By the gods it hurts. I look down expecting to see shredded skin, but my chest is just red like before. He swings the flogger down on my chest over and over again. But I don't tell him to stop, I don't beg for mercy. I take it. I take and he gives, over and over. Tom moves to stand behind me. I can't see him. I'm waiting for the feel of rushing air signaling the beating, but it catches me unaware. Suddenly he's just wailing on my back. It feels like a baseball bat not a short little flogger. Shit. Shit!

And just like that, he stops. He walks to stand in front of me. He's sweating and out of breathe. So am I. We just stand there, staring at each other. Heaving for air.

"Say it." He wheezes.

"Say it", he pleads. But I can't. I can't.

He walks back to the table. I hear him throw down the flogger. I hear the jingle of the chains. He comes back around to stand before me. He has the blue bottle in one hand and the weird chains in the other. He holds up the unstopped blue bottle and pours it down my chest. It's ice cold and I flinch and pull in air. Then he does the same thing to himself. I feel the oil start to slide down my body faster as it's heated by my body heat. It tickles as it moves over my belly. I feel it pool in my pubic hair. I look down and watch the oil slowly, slowly coat my flaccid cock. I look across and I'm treated to the sight of Tom's oiled cock shimmering in the torchlight.

The soft tinkling of the chains brings my attention back up to his hands, now holding the chains. On closer inspection, as he holds them up to my face, they're really quite lovely. They're gold. Two chains about a foot long each. With tiny little gilded metal clamps going down them about every two inches. They sparkle in the flicker of the torches.

"They're called zippers. On account of the beautiful noise they make." He voice has taken on a husky tone.

"You WILL say it. You will." And with that Tom drops to a crouch in front of me. He sets down the bottle and gently shoves the empty bottle away. I can feel the oil dripping off the end of my slowly hardening dick. I'm totally lost in the sensation of it and the view of Tom Riddle on his knees before me…When I feel the first clamp close down on the loose skin over my lower rib.

"Aaaarrrgggghhhhh"

"Fuccckkkkkkk!"

Holy. Fucking. Shit. That was just one clamp. Shit. I start to struggle in my shackles as Tom snaps on the second clamp. Then the third. It's on the sixth and final clamp that I realize it's just the first one that truly hurts. I'm just starting to calm down when he latches on the first clamp on my other side. I scream, and it begins again. Fortunately, the other side goes even quicker and suddenly Tom has me in his mouth.

His mouth is hot and wet and the suction is magical. The rough slide of his tongue on the underside of my penis has my stomach tightening. When it does, it pulls the skin taunt on my belly which pulls on the skin trapped in the clamps. It's the oddest sensation. Like the clamps could just pop right off. Except that's impossible. There's too much skin trapped in the little gold teeth. The only way they're coming off is if someone pulled them off with force…mother…fucker…! I snap my head down to look to see is what I think is true, at the same time Tom grabs the "zippers" by the big ring attached to the end of each of them. Mother. Fucker. He looks up at me with the sweetest expression. Mother Fucker. He proceeds to give me the greatest head ever to happen in the history of ever…holding those damn rings the whole time. My cock hits the back of his throat over and over again, his chin banging on my balls in the sweetest of ways, and all I can think about is how much these fucking zipper things are going to hurt getting snatched off. My balls pull into my body moments later and I know this is it. He's going to snatch the clamps off, the moment I come. And kill me. I can't come. I won't.

"There's no use holding it in little wizard." He says before popping my dick back into his mouth. He pushes me past his throat, his lips sealing around the base of my cock, just I blast my load down his throat. I'm on tiptoe, bowed nearly backwards coming my soul down Toms throat, and still I manage to think, please don't pull the chains. Please don't pull the fucking chains!

Before I can ever finish coming Tom is behind me. He grabs my leg behind the knee and pulls it up to my chest just as his bell end punches through my asshole. I've had no warm-up, in fact I'm still coming, so the pain is sharp and excruciating. The second thrust pushes him past my anal ring, lodging him just inside my rectum. The third thrust pushes him past my last defense and balls deep in my bowels. He explodes deep in my stomach just as I scream to the top of my lungs…

"I LOVE YOU!"

…and he pulls the chains on the fucking zippers.

…as my swollen inflamed flesh is torn out of each clamp in rapid succession through all those tiny little serrated teeth…it sounds just like someone snatching down…a zipper.

Then he's gone. My poor asshole twitching on nothingness. My sides on fucking fire! My heart trying to beat its way out my chest. And my…lover. My Lover. My lover gone.

Wait…who the fucks gonna untie me?


	4. Happy Birthday

**As with all my stories, I own nothing, I am simply putting my sick fantasies out into the universe. Rowling is the real genus and artist. I am but a humble fan.**

Happy Birthday

"Ron…wake up, wake up", I whisper as quietly as I can while shaking his shoulder. Ron is almost completely buried under his bedclothes. His red hair, darker in the dim light of the room, is sticking stalk straight all over his head. "Ron please…I need you". Those were the magic words. I lurch to the side as Ron shoots upright missing my head by inches.

"What is it Harry? What's happened? Ron's voice is high pitched and panicky. His grip on my shoulder bruising.

"N-nothing Ron. I just need to talk to you. Nobodies hurt, nothing's wrong. Can we go downstairs?"

Ron immediately moves to get out of bed. His movements are slow and unsteady, on account of being woken out of a deep sleep. He's wearing loose flannel pants, no shirt. I get a quick glimpse of his pale wide chest, before he shrugs into a thick robe that when he cinches it, covers him from neck to ankle. He stumbles after me, our bare feet silent on the stone floor. Several minutes later we emerge in the common room. The fire is still in full blaze. The room is toasty and warm. I make a beeline to the big comfy sofa in front of the hearth. I sit down near the middle sinking deep into the plushy goodness. I've picked my spot carefully, now Ron has no choice but to sit near me. And near me he does. He plops down on my left. His added weight causes us to sink further into the sofa and sorta roll into each other. Our shoulders knock together and we both struggle to right ourselves. Now, sitting a few inches away we pivot our bodies toward each other. Ron's concern and anxiety is written all over his face.

"What is it Harry?"

I lunge at Ron, wrapping my arms around him. One arm tucked under his, the other arm thrown over his shoulder. I bury my face into his neck and hold on tight.

"Harry?!", Ron squeaks. His voice suddenly several octaves higher. His whole body locks up beneath mine. I can feel his heart beat frantically against my chest, his robe having been knocked open when I pounced upon him.

"Please Ron…please. I need this. Just hold me OK. Can't one mate comfort another? You're my BEST mate, come on…", I whisper urgently in his ear. I clutch tighter. I hold him tighter and wait. But, I don't have to wait long. After just a few seconds, I feel him shift. His back slowly goes from rigid to soft, arching into me. His stomach unlocks, softening, melding with mine. And, lastly, his arms hesitantly rise to wrap around me.

"It gonna be alright Harry. I'm here. Best mates right." His sincerity is like music to my ears.

I slowly, gently, ever so subtly lean us back into the back of the sofa. And, that's where we stay. Embracing each other fully, laying back on the couch. Completely confident that Ron will hold me for as long as I need him to. A true friend.

"I love you Ron", I whisper in his ear. I hold my breath and wait for his reply.

"Harry?!" Back to squeaking again.

"Ron…I love you"

"Umm…uhhh…Me too Harry." Still squeaking.

"Say it Ron, I need to hear the words."

"I don't know Harry? I'm starting to feel uncomfortable, man."

"Ron, damn it, don't sully this. We've saved each other's lives how many times? I'd die for you man, can't you say you love me?"

"Yeah. Sure? You're right. Ummm…I love you Harry?"

"Nope. Try again."

"I l-love you…Harry."

I pull away just far enough to give him a look that says, try harder.

Ron takes a huge breath. His chest expanding against mine. His breath blowing in my ear.

"I love you Harry. You're my best friend and I love you"

That was all I needed to hear.

I ponce on Ron once again but this time with my lips. I devour his mouth as he scrabbles to get away. I manage to remove his rob and partially de-pants him, before he falls to the floor in his rush to get away. He's on his back pulling up his pants, crab walking away from me. He's frantic and bordering on hysterical. It's adorable. I slide off the sofa to land on all fours. I've managed to lose everything but my pants as well. As I start to crawl toward him, Ron makes the sweetest whimper. I grab his ankle and start to slowly crawl up his body as Ron moans in horror, frantically shaking his head. He's quite attractive when he's terrified.

"W-what are you doing Harry?!" he stutters as I crawl up his lower legs.

"I'm getting comfort from a friend?" I state as I grasp his thighs firmly, causing him to jump two inches off the floor.

"Harry, I am not gay!", he says as I settle myself across his thighs sitting on his lap as he lays prone on the floor his hands on my wrists trying to prevent further contact.

I look at him puzzled. "I'm not gay either, Ron".

"I told you, I'm just looking for some comfort. Companionship. A shoulder to cry on. A handjob. Friendship, Ron, friendship."

"God, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm your friend. I'm here for you…wait? What! What did you say?! Did you say handjob?! Ron's face blushes deliciously.

"Yes, Ron, a handjob" I say with exasperation. Really, was he really this daft. "All I ask is a friendly handjob between friends. A hand job can be like a relaxing game of chess."

Ron lets out an hysterical bubble of laughter and offers me a game of chess. Silly boy.

"But, Ron, I don't want to play chess, I want my dick rubbed."

With that, Ron throws me off him and tries to make it to his feet. I grab his ankles and down he goes. We tussle on the floor for quite some time. We really work up a sweat. Since our weight and strengths are pretty much equal, and neither is willing to hurt the other, we can wrestle around forever. That is, until I decide to fight dirty.

"_**Petrificus Totalus" **_ I shout as I pull out my wand. Ron's whole body goes stiff, his hands by his sides, locked outside my knees as I straddle him once again. I lean over his stiff chest to gaze into his eyes. He manages to look quite put out.

"Oh, Ron, don't be mad. It's just a little spell. We weren't making any progress you see."

"What's that Ron, I can't hear you?" I say as I wave my wand once more causing him to be able to move his head and speak.

"You…what the hell Harry, what the hell. Let me up! Let me UP!"

"Uuuummm…no."

I scootch my body down his, cradling my hips to his, our pelvic bones uncomfortably crushed together. I prop myself up on my elbows, pressed deep into his ribs. I settle my face into the cradle of my interlocked fingers and gaze down at his face. It's a lovely face. My tastes run to slender blondes but I can appreciate his charms. His round cherub face, decorated heavily with freckles. Every emotion a different shade of pink. His red hair, curling around his hairline due to the sweat he's worked up in our struggle. Yes, Ron is a lovely, lovely, boy. And, I will thoroughly enjoy blowing his clearly fragile mind.

_Yeah…I'm gonna stop here. You see, I'm feeling very insecure about my writing. I was really proud of how many people have viewed my stories, until a friend pointed out that I only have three reviews. Only three people have given me any feedback. I know this kind of thing is frowned upon, you know, begging for validation, but, I'm desperate, do you like my writing, is it too dark, have I gone too far with beloved characters, should I keep my smut to my notebooks, should I keep writing, should I keep writing, should I keep writing? If I get just a FEW reviews, good or bad I'll finish this story and continue writing, if not, then clearly I'm too dark for this site, and I shall slink back to my cave. Time will tell._

_p.s. I LOOOVVEEEE everyone that left me a review, all three of you. Much love._

_Oh...and this is still a Malfoy/Voldermort story...it's quite clever really._


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